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Fri 2 May 2003Never thought of myself as a Pilates sort of chap before, but after a session last night there's a real danger of me becoming a convert. M had mentioned a while ago that there was a local class starting, and I thought it might help my running effort by improving my general strength, and forcing me to stretch. Apart from a very occasional, very quick and half-hearted calf stretch, there is little danger of me ever having done myself any good by stretching anything. Also, I've always had trouble with upper back pain after long runs, which I'm told is caused by a build-up of lactic acid. Pilates is the sort of targetted activity that could help to shift it. We found our way to a rather dingy dance studio-type of room deep inside the local school, where we found another half dozen volunteers, and a very fit-looking blond Norwegian lady called Lily, who soon had me moaning and writhing sweatily on the floor. It really was good. We stretched and rotated and lifted ourselves for an hour, and although it never became aerobic, I did feel surprisingly and satisfyingly exercised by the end of it. I'll do it again. But it was this morning that I felt the full benefit of the session. I was much looser. The plan was to stick with the three miles but I felt enthusiastic enough to tack on another mile, and improved my pace by nearly a minute a mile over the last couple of days. It was another early, pre-work, run. The rain maintained a fine spray throughout. Most memorable moment was rounding a bend on a narrow lane to find four horses mooning at me. Yes. They were backed up in a line against a fence, their arses stuck in the air towards me - like a protest about something. Had to wonder what this bodily chorus of equine disapproval were feeling so aggrieved about. The rain, I guess. They should try wearing baseball hats. I've grown quite attached to mine. These must be racehorses. In the next field I saw another two groups of four or five horses being exercised on long, loose leashes. Quite a magnificent sight. Not seen them there before. Perhaps they're moved in at this time of year. The last mile was quite tough, but I saw it through. I was knackered and wet, but after a hot shower, felt great. Now here's an odd thing to report. I weighed myself before and after my run and found that I was 1.2 pounds lighter on my return. That's understandable - loss of fluid. But after my shower I was another 1.2 pounds lighter. How can this be? There seem to be only two possible explanations:
Sun 4 May 2003Are my running lessons done, O Master...? [Sound of muffled laughter] Er, not quite yet. Today was one of those days when the stage seemed set. I woke early, with the sun was crashing through the curtains. I felt alert and alive and energised. Not even a hangover to grapple with. Just before I left for my run, I had the brainwave of drinking some fruit juice and a cup of strong coffee. The caffeine would really get me motoring, I reasoned. And it worked for a while - a mile or so - but then I suddenly began to feel dehydrated and, quite simply, too hot. I was sweating, and felt lethargic. I still did my five miles but I had to stop twice to walk. Was it a mistake to drink coffee immediately before a run? It's a diuretic to be sure, but I glugged back so much water yesterday that I expected to be OK. I might have got away with it if it hadn't been so unexpectedly hot and sunny. Today's subsidiary lesson would seem to be to get out as early as possible on sunny days. Given the conditions, it was disappointing not to run better than I did. It was yet another example of the Running Commentary Rule No 1 (Provisional) which states: the success of a run will be in inverse proportion to the degree of expectancy that precedes it. It's provisional because it needs a bit of polishing up. Something to do on tomorrow's run I suppose, along with trying to devise a Rule No 2. The rest of the day was spent mowing grass and digging a new, 200 square foot bed. It was hot and hard work. We hadn't planned to have another vegetable bed, but I rather overdid the seed potato order back in February, and find that I still have about eighty splendidly chitted Pink Fir Apples and King Edwards, begging to be interred. They'll get their final wish tomorrow. Was so knackered later on that, after making a virulently green, but tasty, vegetable soup out of the decaying contents of the lower half of the fridge, we had energy only to watch some very dumbed-down TV. We couldn't resist taking part in the BBC's IQ test, which suggested that M and I are geniuses. She's an even bigger genius than me, it seems - and we were both just ahead of Paula Radcliffe. And it's not often you can say that. Mon 5 May 2003The six week lay-off is a tough opponent. This morning I ran a laboured 3.5 miles. I was tired, and even felt a worrying twinge in my right calf again. It was a reminder that this injury could well reappear. Perhaps I should have rested today, but the holiday seemed too good an opportunity to miss. Tomorrow I won't run. Nearly eight hours in the garden today, digging and planting. The remaining potatoes were put out of their misery. Too knackered to write more. Tues 6 May 2003No run today. Tuesday is normally a running day, but after yesterday's experience I'm taking a rest. Thurs 8 May 2003Out at 6:10am again yesterday for a cautious jog. Cautious because I'd begun to worry about this calf after Monday's ache. But it seemed OK, so I'm turning the paranoia gauge down a few notches. I decided to run for a set time (40 minutes) rather than a set distance. It struck me that when running in the morning, before work, it makes more sense to budget for time rather distance. It's essentially the same thing, though you have more control over your schedule. When you run for a set distance, you monitor progress with a watch. Running for a set time, you monitor progress by distance instead. At least you can if you have a speed/distance monitor. Today was Pilates day, so I've pushed my Thursday run back to tomorrow morning (normally a rest day) instead. Pilates good. Essentially a one hour stretching session: exactly what I need. Ian Painter and Andy, another regular forum correspondent have been throwing hats into the Dublin ring over the past day or so. Looks like the makings of a decent social occasion in October. Anyone else? Fri 9 May 2003There's nothing quite like entering a race to stir up the motivational juices. It seems to work on a number of levels:
So here's the latest picture for 2003:
I'm beginning to think that Windsor may be a September race too far, but I'll leave it in for the moment because... because it makes my list look impressive. A good forty minute run at 6:15 this morning. Just like last Friday's post-Pilates run, this one was around a minute a mile faster than the preceding two outings. If this happens again next week, I'll have to regard it as a strong indication that Pilates -- or perhaps just intensive stretching, whatever name it goes by -- is a great help. It's been a good day in general. I seem to have lost ten pounds since the current campaign began, 18 days ago. Only two more pounds to go to hit my Woodley target in nine days time. The other good news is that today I managed to get a couple of tickets for the second leg of the QPR-Oldham play off match, next Wednesday. (The first leg is tomorrow.) I don't regard myself as unusually pessimistic, but it just occurred to me that while I desperately hope that we get to the Cardiff final, and win, I have a total, unshakeable conviction that we won't get through the Oldham semi-final stage. Our misfortunes have stretched so far and so long, that failure has become a kind of given. To the point that even to be beaten in the play-offs would seem like some kind of success. As Jim Morrison growled: Well, I been down so Goddamn long That it looks like up to me... Wish us luck. Ha ha!! Sun 11 May 2003The plan said six miles today, but I settled for 4.2. My excuses were pretty watertight: a hard day in the garden, and a few beers the day before. It would have been unwise to place further stress on a man in such a delicate condition. Yes, after two weeks of alcohol deprivation, it seemed only reasonable to visit the pub yesterday, to ensure that standards were being maintained in my absence. I'm pleased to report that things were pretty shipshape. Today I was up early, half-intending to run before breakfast, but I was just too hungry to survive another hour without food. Grapefruit, banana, honey, homemade bread and freshly squeezed apple juice. As breakfasts go, what could be better? Hmm, how about bacon sandwiches with ketchup, and strong sweet tea? Or fried eggs on toast with HP sauce. Sausages and tinned tomatoes with fried bread? Beans on toast with Worcester sauce? Or... The trainers finally emerged after 6pm, just as the sun vanished for the day. With a 10K race next Sunday, the plan was to run the same distance today. It's a few weeks since I've run 6 miles. It was a struggle. There was no real pain - no stitches or cramps. But I was hot and dehydrated, and on a windless, heavy evening, I seemed to be fighting for breath from the start. I was ready to stop after three miles, but pushed it on to just over four. Pretty small beer for someone intending to run another marathon this year, but I'm still regaining lost fitness, and am happy with the progress so far. The distances aren't increasing much yet, but I'm running around a minute a mile faster than I was three weeks ago, so I'm happy. I'm also ten pounds lighter than I was then. Funny how you can sometimes pick up the best information from a footnote. I'd been looking for another race in early August, and came across a half marathon trail race in Liphook, West Sussex that looked interesting. The description did mention that it was a fairly hilly race, but tucked away at the bottom of the page was this rather vivid snippet of information: Important note: There will be no advanced life support ambulances at this event, and be aware that the nearest hospitals are some way away. Hmmm.... Tues 13 May 2003Finally, I seem to be getting back to where I was in early March. Four great miles early this morning through the scrubbed, edgey post-rain air. The sort of run that throws you from night to day. Asleep one minute, wide-awake the next. Like the flicking of a switch. I didn't intend running fast this morning, it just happened that way: a whole two minutes a mile faster than I was just two weeks ago. It was tough, but I felt a kind of confidence and energy, and centredness that I've not felt for a while. Back home, chomping hypnotically on my dry toast, staring through the kitchen window, I see a young deer trotting round the back garden sniffing at the flowers. Eventually she bounds off through the laurel hedge and vanishes into the neighbouring garden. Wed 14 May 2003
Sat 17 May 2003I guess it's time for normal life to resume. Wednesday night at Loftus Road was one of the most exciting experiences I can remember in a football stadium. And believe me, there have been a few. Constant, huge noise. Unbearable tension. All three home sides of the ground were in foment for ninety minutes. The goal, on 84 minutes, was the signal for bizarre scenes of uncontrollable joy. When the final whistle went we felt as though we'd won the European Champions League rather than just won through to the play-off final at the Millennium Stadium in Cardiff on Sunday week. Much of yesterday was written off trying to get tickets for the Cardiff game, but eventually I succeeded. I think. I won't fully believe it till they pop through the letterbox. One nice aspect of Wednesday evening came while having a pint before the game. There was a tap on my shoulder, and standing there was some bloke grinning at me and holding out his hand. I'd no idea who he was until he introduced himself as Nik, a guy I've corresponded on and off for quite a while about running. Nik had read the stuff I wrote about the London Marathon 2002, and had started running as a result. We'd never met until Wednesday night. If you're reading this, Nik, thanks for saying hello, and keep the running going. In around 12 hours time, I'm scheduled to be running the Woodley 10K. At the moment I don't feel well prepared. I got drunk last night and didn't get to bed till 5am. This evening I've eaten a huge home-made curry to try and salve the hangover. The intention is only to complete the race at normal training pace. This means that I'm not going for a PB. On the off-chance that the course is not too unkind, and I just happen to feel in the mood, I may give it a go, but I'm not entering it with a fast time (by my standards) in mind. A "fast" 10K for me would be anything under an hour. Sun 18 May 2003Another Sunday, another medal. Today was the Woodley 10K. A well-organised event, replete with brass band, beer tent, plant stall and burger bar. The plants and brass band I was happy to enjoy before the race; the beer and burgers came afterwards. Memo for next year: this is a very flat course, and a good PB prospect. Memo for this year: shame you weren't up for it. I felt bloated and out of sorts today. I'd reached my weight target, just about, managing to lose around 12 pounds over the last three weeks. Great! But the last few days have been a bit disorientating, and the excesses of Friday and last night's impromptu curry counted against me today. No matter. I had some trouble with selfish car drivers and stroppy 14-year-olds, but it was a decent training run. The race began well enough, with the first couple of kilometres at around 5:30 pace - good by my standards. Perhaps too good. I tired in the third, and slipped back to 6:15, then 6:30. By this point I knew I'd blown it. I even had to walk for a minute or two here, then again within a mile. At one point, as I walked, a guy passed me and said, pleasantly: "Jog along with me if you like?" So I did. We had a chat about Reading Road Runners, his club. As mentioned some weeks ago, I'm still keen to join them when I get the chance to get down to their HQ early enough. What I re-learnt today was that sometimes it doesn't matter much. In my case, it probably never matters much. Running a race is a great experience in itself, regardless of how seriously you take the competitive challenge. In other words, a race is more than a race. In a small place like Woodley, it's a community event first and foremost: people getting together to entertain themselves. The truth of the ancient cliché that it's not the winning but the taking part was very clear today. Mon 19 May 2003The Lore Of Running by Tim Noakes - what a good book this is. I bought it a couple of weeks ago but have only just started to dip into it. It's allure is its astonishing detail and breadth. Noakes is a research scientist and physician, and he sees most things from the detachment of a scientific perspective. For instance, novice runners profit from not thinking about running while they're doing it, while experienced runners are better off concentrating on the act of running while doing it. A simple principle, but talking of "disassociative versus associative strategies" sounds much more interesting. There are also quaint touches, like the quote from the 1920s training manual advocating gradual improvement: "Nature is unable to make a really first-class job of anything if she is hustled". Hard to disagree, especially when you run races like I do. Bang! Crash!
tinkle tinkle tinkle....... |
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